


Warmer with You

by cozywilde



Series: Nomikh Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde
Summary: Woken by Dorian's shivering, Nomikh makes an offer.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Series: Nomikh Lavellan [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120148
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Warmer with You

**Author's Note:**

> See [Nomikh’s Toyhouse profile](https://toyhou.se/7959085.nomikh-lavellan) for his appearance and history.

A shuddery sigh and the rustle of shifting cloth across the tent jostled Nomikh from the edge of sleep. Even in the confines of the tent with a brazier lit, the night air in the Emprise du Lion settled chill over his face where he peeked over the edge of his blanket. 

“My apologies,” Dorian whispered, and Nomikh turned on his side to look at him. The motion sent creeping fingers of cold air into his bedroll, and he hurriedly tucked the edges of the blanket around himself again. 

“What for?” Nomikh asked, once situated. 

“Waking you, I assumed.” Dorian snuggled deeper into his own blanket, little as it seemed to help him—now that Nomikh looked, he could see a minute tremble to his shoulders, shivers going through him every few seconds. “I’ll endeavor to keep my restlessness a bit quieter.” 

Perhaps it wasn’t quite fair to stare so intently, his own vision so much better than Dorian’s here in the dark, but Nomikh couldn’t keep himself from looking his fill. Seeing this more relaxed Dorian—hair ruffled from his pillow, eyes free of kohl, leather and shiny accoutrements traded for a loose sleep shirt—it brought an ache to his chest, warm and wanting. Even if Dorian looked exhausted. 

“Cold, right?” Nomikh said, sympathetic. 

Dorian huffed a laugh. “What a guess! Astounding leaps of logic from our Inquisitor. Cold, in this icy wasteland. Imagine!” 

“Alright, alright,” Nomikh grinned, tucking his face into the blanket. “No need to get snippy.” He had hesitated over asking Dorian to come, knowing full well his dislike for long off-road treks, particularly those of the wet and cold sort. The guilt tugged at him, his selfish desire to have Dorian with him—his magic that meshed so well with Nomikh’s in a fight, his irreverent comments to startle laughter from him when his thoughts grew dark. He closed his eyes for a moment, sighed. Nothing he could do about it now.

Or maybe there was. 

“Dorian?” 

“Yes?” 

“Would you like to join me over here?” 

The pause lingered long enough that Nomikh turned to look at Dorian again, eyebrow raised. 

“I’m attempting not to misinterpret, you see,” Dorian said, picking up mid-thought. “It’s a bit chilly for that sort of thing, don’t you think?” A familiar teasing lilt to his voice, a suggestive curl to his lips where the dim light of the brazier caught them. 

Nomikh blinked, and then flushed. “Ah. Yes. That it is.” He laughed, and after a moment Dorian joined him. “I am serious, though—we’d both be warmer together.” 

Dorian examined him in the low light. Nomikh wondered how much he saw—in the shadows, and in the lines of his face. “It seems you are,” he said finally. “How curious! Well, I am in no position to refuse you, lest I spend the rest of the night shivering by my lonesome.” He struggled up from the nest he’d made of his blankets, ungraceful as he attempted to move without baring any part of himself to the cold. Finally he huffed and dropped the tangle of linens to the bedroll, hurriedly tugging the whole lot over to Nomikh’s side of the tent.

“I’m glad I’m amusing you, oh Lord Inquisitor,” he huffed, catching sight of the grin Nomikh made no attempt to hide as he watched. 

“Oh, please,” Nomikh groaned. “No _Lord Inquisitors_ in bed, as a rule.” 

“None whatsoever?” Dorian asked, settling back into his bedroll, now laid out directly next to Nomikh’s. It put his face abruptly, breathtakingly close, soft-edged and sleepy in the reddish-orange glow from the brazier. “I shall have to remember that, if we ever return to a part of civilization that _possesses_ such a luxury as a bed.” 

“We will,” Nomikh promised, voice lower in their new proximity. He raised the edge of his blanket, shuddering himself as cool air rushed in. “Come on, you’re still shivering over there.” 

Dorian hesitated only a moment before moving in closer, letting Nomikh settle his blanket over him. For good measure Dorian tugged his own blankets over them both as well. 

“Better?” Nomikh asked. He certainly felt warmer, the thunder of his own heartbeat loud in his ears. Still worth asking, as he suspected his own flush had more to do with the brushes of Dorian’s skin beneath the blanket than the added layers. It was a careful dance that they normally did, on the road or back at Skyhold; all shared glances and sly smiles, leaning in close but drawing gracefully away as the steps demanded, keeping that deliberate bit of distance. Fun, usually, to see who could get the last word, but now the weight of all those teasing promises seemed all the heavier, with the possibility of fulfilling them so near. 

“Quite,” Dorian murmured. He shifted, hesitating with an arm hovering above Nomikh’s side. “Do you mind…?” 

“Not at all,” Nomikh said, similarly hushed. Dorian’s arm settled across his waist, and Nomikh shifted closer instinctively, tucked against Dorian’s chest. He laid a hand there, breath leaving him in a slow sigh that Dorian mirrored. He could feel it ruffle his hair, let loose from its bun for the night; feel Dorian’s chest rise and fall beneath his palm. Creators, what a terrible idea this was. How could Nomikh expect to sleep like this, with Dorian’s lips brushing his hair, Dorian’s hand pressed to the small of his back? 

And yet his eyelids grew heavy, breaths slowing to match Dorian’s—or maybe Dorian’s slowed to match his. It made little difference, here in the close warm dark. 

_If nothing else, let me have this_ , Nomikh thought, before he finally slipped into sleep.


End file.
